


A Little Scare

by ElfGrove



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Ex-Military Shiro (Voltron), Farmer Keith (Voltron), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Stripper Shiro (Voltron), Yeehaw AU, farm au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 22:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15519996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElfGrove/pseuds/ElfGrove
Summary: Playing in buffshiro's Yeehaw AU, what if Shiro fell while working at the club and Keith wasn't there?





	A Little Scare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [buffshiro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffshiro/gifts).



Keith brushed a hand through his hair, grimacing a little at the light sheen of sweat on his forehead now chilling his skin since the sun had gone down. The last of the days chores were managed. Chicken coop and Shiro’s vegetable garden secured. Cows in the barn. Gates all checked and chained for the night. Now he could either hop in the shower to wash off the day’s dust or start fixing dinner. Shiro would be at the club until the wee hours of the morning and so couldn’t mockingly complain at him about dusty hands on the skillet frying something up for a quick meal.

He smiled fondly at the thought of his husband pouting at him from the kitchen island before taking the pan away and ushering him off to the shower. He never would tell Shiro not to go to his job at the club. It’s how they met. Shiro’s good at it, and Keith loves seeing him up there. Still, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss his husband when he’s not at home.

Giada flaps her way onto the kitchen island, completely unaware that were she any other chicken and not Shiro’s baby she probably would have been bound for the skillet one day herself. Feathers fluff out as she twists her head to look at him out of one eye and then the other, ending with a derisive cluck.

He sighed. He really should shower before cooking.

“Okay,” He chuckles, pushing ineffectually at the overweight bird to get her off the counter. “Okay girl. I’m going.”

He’s almost out of the kitchen when the phone rings.

He pauses, turns to look at the phone, debating.

He picks up.

“Hello, Kogane Farms.”

The voice on the other end is cool, professional, and utterly unfamiliar, “Hello, am I speaking to Mr. Keith Kogane?”

“Yes’m.”

The strange woman continues, “Mr. Kogane, I am Florona, an RA at Talwar Memorial Hospital.”

Keith’s throat constricts. Talwar is the nearest hospital, a 40-minute drive away from the farm. The one in the same city where Shiro’s club is. Shiro isn’t home. He’s at the club. Working. He likes to keep himself busy and distracted this time of year. Takes on extra shifts. He hasn’t texted yet tonight.

“Your husband, Mr. Takashi Shi—Shirogane, am I saying that right?”

Keith nods before remembering the woman on the line can’t hear him, “Yes’m. That’s right.”

Shiro is in the hospital. Shiro is nearly an hour away in a hospital and without him. Today of all days. Shiro is hurt bad enough to be in a hospital. What happened? How bad is he? He needs to be there. Now.

“Your husband is with us at the hospital right now. I’m not sure where you are, but he’s not in any condition to go anywhere just now. Could you come to the hospital and bring him a change of clothes? We have your insurance information, but if there’s any additional paperwork or allergies we should be aware of…”

“I’ll be right there,” Keith feels his accent thicken in his suddenly raw voice, cutting the nurse off. “I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

“Thank you Mr. Kogane, we’ll see you soon.”

“Thanks,” He chokes out before nearly dropping the phone in his attempt to get it back on the receiver.

He takes two steps back into the kitchen before freezing, turning on a heel and taking a step towards the bedroom. He freezes again, staring at Giada. He’s been to the hospital before. Of course he has. He’s been on a farm his entire life. Between livestock, large farming equipment, small (sometimes rusty) farming tools, long exhausting hours, and teenagers playing around such things, accidents happen. They just do. When accidents are really bad, you drive the 40 minutes to Talwar Memorial. It’s a long trip when someone’s bleeding. It’s never a good or small thing. Never in his life. They’re a farming community, money is often tight, and you walk off what you can.

Shiro’s in the hospital with something he can’t walk off.

Keith tugs at his hair, staring at Giada as if she can advise him.

“He needs a change of clothes.” He turns, walking numbly into the bedroom.

He’s stuffing clothes in a duffel bag, more than one change of clothes. If it’s bad enough Shiro couldn’t come home himself, couldn’t call to get picked up, it’s gotta be bad. He’ll probably be in the hospital for a while. Hospital gowns are terrible. He shoves in the soft flannel sheep print pajamas his mother bought Shiro last Christmas. He takes the novels off the bedside table, shoving them in the bag too. Shiro may be in the hospital for days. Longer.

What could have happened?!

He looks down distractedly to find Giada followed him into the bedroom. She’s chirping, baby noises that she’s really outgrown at this point, at him in concern. He supposes the bird’s never seen him really rattled.

Shiro will worry about his house chicken.

He upturns two drawers of folded clothes on the bed before he finds the baby monitor they’d tucked away. One half he sets in Giada’s brooder, the other goes into the duffel, underneath the clothes. A surprise to cheer Shiro up.

Please, please let Shiro be conscious to be cheered up.

He was in the city. If he was injured enough to go to the hospital… Did someone get too rowdy at the club and the bouncers couldn’t handle it? It would be just like Shiro to step in to help, even if he didn’t have a stitch on more than one of his stage thongs. What if it was a drunk driver? What if… Keith stepped into the hallway, eyes drifting across the locked gun safe. It had been in the news lately. What if some bigot had gone to the club aiming to murder folk he saw as less than human because he interpreted the bible one particular way?

Shiro. _HIS SHIRO_.

Giada chirruped at his heels again and he looked down at her then out the window at the sleepy expanse of the farm. Animals didn’t understand emergencies. A farm’s needs didn’t change because he needed them to pause for the love of his life. The cows would need milking, chickens fed, horses turned out to the pasture, and a dozen other necessary chores for the health of their home would need doing in a few hours. He wouldn’t be able to make himself leave Shiro’s side once he got there. He knew it.

He needed someone to take care of the farm tomorrow. Maybe for a few days.

Mom and Dad were still on that road trip, gods knew where at the moment.

He needed to go to Shiro _NOW_. But the farm needed him.

He returned to the kitchen phone, dialing his nearest neighbor.

“Hunk, I need a favor.”

 

* * *

 

“You’re not driving anywhere.”

“Hokuaonani Tyler Garrett,” Keith began through gritted teeth.

Hunk held out a hand implacably, “Give me your keys, Keith.”

“I’m going to my husband.”

Lance sighed, slipping up behind him to jerk his keys from his hands, depositing them in Hunk’s outstretched palm, “Of course you are, hotshot.”

Hunk wrapped strong fingers around the keys and pulled Keith into a hug with his other arm. “Y’know I wouldn’ keep you two apart, but I’m not lettin’ you drive in this state. You ain’t gonna do Shiro any good iffin you get in an accident or end up dead in a ditch somewhere tryin’ ta get to him.”

Keith bit back a panicked breath at the words ‘dead in a ditch.’

“Oh hon’,” Hunk petted his head before releasing him. “You got your bag ready?”

Keith nodded, trying not to return to pacing.

“Okay. Imma drive your truck up to Tulwar. Lance is gonna follow an’ we’ll drive back and take care o’ the farm in the morning. You just stay with Shiro an’ don’ worry ‘bout anything else. You’ll have your truck to come home whenever y’all’re ready.” Hunk tilted his head to look at him carefully, “Sound good?”

Keith’s voice is soft, “Thank you, Hunk.”

 

* * *

 

 

They’re halfway to Tulwar before he recognizes that Hunk as been talking to him the entire drive there. Soft, low, constant chatter, the same way you talked to frightened livestock.

He must be a sight.

“What?”

Hunk pauses for a moment, clearly surprised to get a response, “Did they tell you anything?”

 He shakes his head slowly, “No. I’ve no idea what happened. Hunk I--”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Hunk nods to himself, eyes focused on the road. “Your man didn’t survive a war, teach himself how to garden like he was born with one hand in the dirt and end up in our little middle of nowhere town to find you only for fate to separate you two now. Y’all are destiny, Keith. He’ll be fine.”

Keith tightened his grip on the oh shit handle above the door, knuckles going even whiter than they already were, eyes locked onto the passing lights outside, “I hope so.”

“Have faith,” Hunk hummed comfortingly.

“Just,” Keith swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. “Why’d it have ta be today? Of all days, why today?”

“What’s today?”

“The day they took his arm.”

“Oh.” Hunk exhaled, and Keith heard the protesting growl of the engine as Hunk fed it more gas. “Oh, Shiro.”

 

* * *

 

In a hospital room, Shiro curled over his knees, knowing the meds were blocking out the pain that his brain gleefully informed him was there anyways. It was secondary really. He couldn’t believe it. He’d slipped in a pole dance. His prosthetic arm hadn’t gripped the way he’d expected it to, had slipped at a key moment and he’d gone crashing down. High heeled boots twisting painfully underneath him and body crumpling into the space between the stage and the bar top for patrons.

He’d ended in an unattractive pained heap of scars and awkward limbs, showing everyone just how broken and worthless he really was. What a waste. Lost his arm and couldn’t hack it as a pilot anymore. Too scarred to be conventionally attractive without the muscles and dancing. Only with the dancing could he support himself, fighting with the VA for his military benefits was a monthly uphill battle, with the VA insisting that if he made so much money now they shouldn’t have to pay his medical discharge anymore. All he could count on was his dancing to make himself useful. Now he couldn’t even get through a damn routine right.

He was a failure. He was broken. Worthless.

He could still hear the pitying gasps and screams from the club echoing in his head.

He could see the disapproving looks from the conservative head nurse that all he had come in wearing was a sequined pair of booty shorts and a short black satin robe with no belt someone had snagged for him from the dressing room as the paramedic had escorted him out.

He was broken all over again. He might not have lost the foot, but that he was incapacitated again, the same day they’d had to amputate his arm wasn’t lost on him. He was falllingapart. Slowly breaking until nothing worthwhile was left.

Who knew when he’d be able to dance again after this fall.

He felt like a waste of a human being.

 

* * *

 

Hunk and Lance flanked Keith as he made his way through the hospital doors, finding the willowy R.A. at the reception desk was the same woman he’d spoken to on the phone. Florona. Flo led them through the side door into whitewashed hallways that smelled of antiseptic to a closed door, murmuring information and assurances that Keith knew he wasn’t processing. He needed to see Shiro. He needed to see his husband with his own two eyes. See that he was alive and safe Everything else could wait.

At last Flo brought them to an examining room door, in a quiet corner of the ward. She opened it and Keith saw Shiro sitting on an examination table, glitter and body oil still glinting off his shoulders in the fluorescent lighting.

He was sitting up.

Keith’s eyes raked up and down, looking for evidence of the injury that had brought them here tonight.

Shiro raised his head slowly to look at them as Keith’s eyes alighted on the brace on his left foot. He looked Shiro over again and again, seeing nothing worse than the simple brace.

“Shiro?”

“Keith?” Shiro’s voice shook in frustration and humiliation, “I’m sorry I didn’t know they’d called you. I—”

Something heavy dropped to the floor with a thud and Keith had his arms round Shiro in a flash. Fingers raked through his hair dislodging glitter and dried sweat, and his forehead pressed against Shiro’s for a long moment before he pulled him in for a kiss.

“Keith…”

“Gawd,” Keith’s accent was so much thicker than normal he knew it had to be difficult to understand, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Yer okay. I was so scared something terrible had—But yer okay. Yer awake and breathing and—oh thank the stars, yer alive.”

Shiro blinked in surprise. He’d busted is ankle, was still waiting for the second doctor to look over the x-rays. His life had never been in danger, but Keith was acting as if… _Oh. OH._ “Just fractured my ankle, they think.” He brushed fingers through Keith’s tangled hair, dust from the farm mixing with the last remnants of body oil and glitter on his hands in a disgusting mess. “They’re getting a second opinion now. It’s just my foot.”

Keith squeezed his eyes shut as he dropped his head to Shiro’s shoulder, hot tears finally running down his face, “I was so scared…”

“I’m sorry.”

Keith squeezed him closer, head snapping up to meet his eyes, “Don’t you dare apologize for being okay. I’d rather a million scares over nothing than get a call one night that I’ve lost you.”

 _Nothing?_ Shiro choked back the beginning of a sob, “I’m not going to be able to work for a month or more. I— It’s not nothing.”

“You’ll heal.” Keith kissed both of his cheeks gently, then his forehead. “Even if you didn’t, long as you’re still with me. Long as you can smile. It’s nothing. Nothing else matters.”

“Keith,” Shiro chuckled into his hair, breathing in the familiar scent of dust and barnyard and their home. _Their home. Their farm. Their little family._ “Yeah. I’ll be okay.”

Looking over Keith’s shoulder, Shiro saw Hunk and Lance leaning in the doorway, smiles plastered over their faces. Lance looked like he was storing up jokes they’d be hearing for the next year. Hunk had the same expression he wore at the end of watching some romantic comedy film, when the couple finally got together as the movie climaxed.

‘You gave us all a scare,’ The big man mouthed silently to him.

Shiro hugged Keith a little tighter to him. He’d been berating himself up and down over a busted ankle while Keith had clearly been expecting far worse news. A broken ankle suddenly seemed a lot less of a problem compared to the idea of his husband in tears. _This was nothing._

 

* * *

 

The doctors had given him crutches, a couple of doses of pain medication to get him through the first 24 hours, and a prescription they could get filled out tomorrow.

Keith was having none of it, picking him up and carrying him bridal style from the examination room all the way out to the truck. There’d been a lot of chuckles and a few whoops and catcalls from hospital staff and patients in the waiting room as they passed.

He wasn’t exactly embarrassed, but he was grateful for the street clothes Keith had brought for him to put on before their little parade to the getaway vehicle. Hunk and Lance had left a couple of hours earlier, promising to take care of some of the early morning chores for them while Keith and he wrapped up paperwork and listened to doctor instructions before they could go home.

In the truck, a heavy duffel bag rested on the bench seat between them, and their fingers intertwined over the gear shift.

“So 8 weeks off my foot.” Shiro sighed, already feeling the restlessness settle in to his bones. “I’m gonna go stir crazy.”

“Yer gonna spoil Giada even sillier than she already is.”

“Probably,” Shiro chuckled, leaning over to peer into the duffel bag Keith had brought him. He hadn’t had a chance to investigate the contents a panicked husband had packed for his unexpected hospital stay that hadn’t happened.

“I’m sure I can find ways to keep you nice an’ distracted too,” Keith shot him a sly smirk. “Got ya all to myself for 8 weeks. I’m sure I can think of all sorts of ways ta entertain ourselves.”

Shiro laughed, cheeks reddening already at the prospect, “So what is all this?”

“Yer husband being a fool. Don’ look.”

“Oh, now I have to know.” Shiro laughed as he pawed through a selection of terribly mismatched clothing choices, and a half dozen magazines and grocery store romance novels that had been on the bedside table. He paused when he found something hard and plastic near the bottom. “What’s—Is this Giada’s baby monitor?”

Keith pointedly focused on the road, not meeting his eyes, “Yes.”

“You know this wouldn’t have even worked from so far away.” Shiro turned it in his hands, opening a panel on the back. “It doesn’t even have batteries in it.”

“I wasn’ thinkin’ straight.”

“Thank you.” Shiro leaned over to kiss his cheek, “This is the sweetest thing ever.”


End file.
